Fire and Ice 3: Trials
by Durhelediel and Layren
Summary: After all the recent events that have happened, Qui-Gon is placed on a solitary mission that goes horribly wrong. Will he survive to see his padawan again? Completed! Please R&R.
1. Default Chapter

**Fire and Ice: Trials** (third in a series)

**Authors:** Durhelediel and Layren

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** The Star Wars universe and people belong to George Lucas. We know that, but we refuse to accept it. Lol

**Summary:** After all the recent events that have happened, Qui-Gon is placed on a solitary mission that goes horribly wrong. Will he survive to see his padawan again?

**Chapter One**

"You are under review for your recent disobedience to the Council," Mace Windu said, his fingers steepled in front of him. "The Council is concerned about how this is becoming a habit. We believe that it is time to give you a test of sorts."

Qui-Gon frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "A test?" he echoed. "Merely being a few hours late with a comm call does not warrant such severity."

Yoda sent him a sharp look. "Question our orders you should not. Repeated this is. Reason for this test it is."

Qui-Gon fell silent, gritting his teeth. He nodded once, to Master Yoda. "As you wish, my Master."

Ki-Adi Mundi, usually one of the Jedi that overlooked Qui-Gon's constant rubbing with the Council, frowned. "You will be going on a solo mission as your padawan recovers. There is no objection or negotiation on your part. Obi-Wan is not even to be told that you are leaving. You will time your departure for when he is in another bacta treatment."

Qui-Gon's gaze narrowed at that. Like the Sith he would leave without informing his padawan. "As my padawan is still injured it is my duty as his master to stay at his side until he fully recovers."

"Disobey you will not," Yoda barked sharply, showing a rare sign of temper. "To someone else you will appoint your duty."

Qui-Gon struggled to keep his temper and his tongue in check. "Very well," he snapped. "I was under the impression that neglecting your duty was generally frowned upon. However, I will do as I am ordered."

Mace glared at him. "Yes, you will," he said in a cold tone. "And never mind about appointing someone to watch over Obi-Wan. We'll take care of that for you. We suggest you leave. Now."

Qui-Gon didn't bother to reply. He turned on his heel and stormed from the room, highly irritated at how the meeting had gone. He was furious at the Council, but he knew he had to get his anger in check. He headed back to the Healer's Wing to check on his padawan before he left, regardless of what the Council had just told him about leaving without informing Obi-Wan.

Kyran met him at his padawan's recovery room door. "He's back in bacta again. The skin on his back was so badly burned and flayed that it doesn't want to heal without reoccurring infection. Han'yaie thinks he can get the infection to go away this time, though," Kyran informed Qui-Gon quietly as he steered his friend back around toward the bacta tanks.

Qui-Gon nodded, wincing at Kyran's news. And the Council expected him to leave his padawan in this condition? His heart rebelled at the idea of leaving him in this vulnerable state. His heart felt as if it would bleed with misery and anger. "I can't stay," he said shortly in an irritated tone.

Kyran glanced at him, shock on his face. "Why not?"

"I'm forbidden to stay at my padawan's side, due to my disobedience. The Council is sending me on a mission." He clenched his hands into fists. "I can't even tell him that I'm leaving. In fact, I'm probably highly disobeying orders just by popping in to check on him."

Kyran looked as if he wished Qui-Gon were joking, but knew he was not. "Wow..." was all he could say as he stopped right outside Obi-Wan's bacta tank.

Qui-Gon pushed aside his anger and discontent as he gazed at his unconscious padawan. He smiled a little seeing Obi-Wan floating peacefully in the bacta tank. He sent a wave of love and comfort to the boy. "I have to leave. The Council is appointing someone else to look after him while I'm gone." He swallowed, wincing at the pain of his still-healing throat. "I hope they pick you, but if not, I'd still appreciate you looking out for him once in awhile."

"Of course!" Kyran said, now looking shocked that Qui-Gon would ever question it. "Know where you're going yet?"

"No. Not yet, I'm assuming they'll tell me eventually, unless they just want me drifting in space," Qui-Gon remarked curtly.

"Qui-Gon!" came a sharp, very familiar voice from behind him. "Leaving you should be!"

Qui-Gon's gaze darkened noticeably and he turned to face the small Master, defiance sparkling in his blue eyes. "I was just leaving, Master Yoda. Far be it from me to check on my apprentice in a bacta tank." He glowered at the small Master, highly upset.

Yoda sighed and made his way over to Qui-Gon. "Hard it is, Qui-Gon, but important this test is. This time defy not the Council."

"I will do my duty," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I was just leaving. Good day." He stormed from the room, giving his padawan a last burst of comfort before he left.

Yoda watched Qui-Gon leave and let out a big sigh before turning to Kyran. "Decided the Council has that appointed are you to watch Obi-Wan. Keep Qui-Gon informed of all you should."

"Yes, Master Yoda. He informed me the Council would be picking someone to look after him. I will be more than happy to look out for Obi-Wan until Qui-Gon returns," Kyran said as he stared after his friend's retreating back.

"Learn this lesson he must," Yoda informed Kyran. "Hard it will be."

"Is this honestly the best time for him to learn such a lesson, Master Yoda? It might drive him to further rebellion rather than what the Council wishes."

Yoda glanced up at him. "That is why a test it is," he said simply.

Kyran sighed a little. "Yes, Master Yoda." He turned his attention back to Obi-Wan. He would not be pleased to wake up and find his master gone.

* * *

Mace was waiting at the ramp to a small but fast, sleek ship. "You're late," he reproached his friend, raising his eyebrows. They both knew why he was late, though Mace didn't immediately say anything about it, except for a quiet, "How is he?"

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, tempted very strongly to say something ugly to his friend, but swallowed it with difficulty. "Not good. His eyes were restored but his skin is so badly flayed and burned Han'yaie is keeping him in a bacta tank to prevent infection." His stormy blue eyes narrowed, unhappy with the situation and being made to leave without at least telling his padawan goodbye. Obi-Wan was a very impressionable young man. What would he think when he awoke and found his Master had left without a word or a note of goodbye?

Mace nodded curtly, then gestured to the one-man craft. "You are to take this to the coordinates already on the navicomputer. We will send instructions once you are there." He gave him a stern look. "We know how long it takes to get there."

Qui-Gon glared at him. "If I am ambushed will that be held against my record?"

Mace visibly bit back a retort and said only, "No."

"Good. If the Council has no further orders I will be departing." Qui-Gon folded his arms across his chest.

Mace simply gestured to the ship and stepped away. "May the Force be with you," he called after him.

Qui-Gon didn't reply verbally, he merely gave a curt nod as he slipped into the pilot's seat and glared at the navicomp. He gained clearance to depart and within minutes was in Coruscant's atmosphere heading toward space. He frowned, wondering where he was going, but then dismissed the thought for the moment. Regaining his attention to what he was doing, he pulled the lever when he came to realspace and the stars flared into starlines.

Yoda slowly made his way toward Mace, having left Kyran and Obi-Wan. "Think you do that the Council is wrong with Qui-Gon?" the little Jedi Master asked softly.

Mace Windu sighed. "Perhaps now isn't the best time for this test. Perhaps it would've been more appropriate had we waited until Obi-Wan was more fully recovered."

"Agree with you I do," Yoda said, surprising Mace. "But agrees not the rest of the Council does. Help him if we can we must."

Mace nodded. "I will go back to the Healer's wing and sit with Kyran for awhile." He sighed heavily, hating the fact that he had to censure one of his friends.

Yoda nodded. "Necessary the Council thinks this is. Concerned I am. More looking into this needs." He started back toward his room.

"I will contact you on how Obi-Wan is recovering, Master," Mace replied, knowing what the Council thought of Qui-Gon and his rebellion, but also how concerned they were about Obi-Wan's recent trauma. He bowed deeply out of respect for the small Master. "May the Force be with you."

Yoda seemed troubled as he responded, "And with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Obi-Wan stared at Kyran for a moment, disbelieving. "He...left? Without saying anything to me?" He had just been released from his upteenth bacta treatment to find only Kyran waiting for him. Naturally, he had asked about his master, thinking that perhaps Qui-Gon was getting some much needed sleep. Instead, Kyran had avoided his eyes and mumbled something about "going away".

Kyran sighed a little. "Obi-Wan, it wasn't his choice. Please believe that. Qui-Gon was forced into the situation due to the Council's censure of his actions by coming to your rescue. Yoda met him here and insisted that he leave."

Obi-Wan turned his face away to hide his disappointment. That still didn't explain why Qui-Gon didn't leave him some sort of message. Qui-Gon rebelled against the rules enough that he would have done it. Perhaps Obi-Wan wasn't special enough for Qui-Gon to bend the rules for him.

Kyran grimaced, sensing the young man's hurt. He silently cursed the Council for forcing this decision on his friend. He narrowed his gaze as Mace Windu strode into the Healer's Wing. "Has Qui-Gon reported in yet?" he asked, barely controlling his tone with his old friend.

Mace shook his head and glanced over at a suddenly glowering Obi-Wan. He had never seen the young man direct such a hostile glare at him before. Kyran must have told him about Qui-Gon having to leave. "We don't expect him to reach the asteroid belt for another few minutes. If he has not contacted us in thirty minutes, we'll try to get a hold of him."

Kyran's jaw dropped and he now glared openly at Mace. "You're sending him into an asteroid belt? What are you trying to do, get him killed?"

Mace regarded him coolly. "His reflexes will help him navigate. Besides, he's been to this one before, though it was years ago as a padawan." Mace sighed. "It's better than what they wanted to do..."

"So this is how the Council deals with disobedience?" Kyran folded his arms across his chest. He frowned a little. "What did they want to do?"

Mace glanced at Obi-Wan, then shook his bald head. "Trust me, you don't want to know. This is a much simpler test than they wanted. He should pass this one fine."

Obi-Wan scowled and crossed his arms.

"So the Council decides to try to murder those who don't agree with them?" Kyran angrily shot at his friend.

Mace began to feel angry himself. "Look, Josel, Yoda and I did what we could to convince them of Qui-Gon's loyalty to the Order, but with his recent and past actions it was hard for us to do so. They wanted a test: we influenced them to keep it from becoming murder for a lone Jedi. This is a simple test. He goes to the asteroids, he navigates, he contacts who he is supposed to when he's supposed to, and everyone in the Council is happy again. He'll be away from here at the maximum of three days."

Kyran glowered at Mace, shaking his head in disbelief. He sat down on Obi-Wan's bed to keep from punching his friend and doing something he would regret. "I still can't believe you forced him to leave without letting him tell his injured padawan goodbye."

Obi-Wan relaxed his arms, trying hard not to act like he was listening to the two adults argue.

Mace sighed. "Again, to keep his 'test' from being much worse than it was, this was decided as another form of punishment."

"I suppose the Council did not take it into consideration that they were also punishing an innocent by denying him his master's love and comfort," he shot back, "even though he was practically on Death's door a few days ago?"

Mace shot him a look. "Yes, they did. Or rather, Yoda, Ki-Adi Mundi and I did. The others think that Obi-Wan is starting to show attributes of his master so they did not care."

Obi-Wan blushed. He knew that they were referring to his disobedience on his and Qui-Gon's trip to Hoth just a few short weeks ago.

Kyran winced. "Oh." He glanced away, wondering how his friend was faring on his mission alone.

Suddenly Obi-Wan winced and hissed out a breath. He grabbed at his head, moaning.

Kyran frowned, startled. "Obi-Wan? What's the matter?"

"It's Qui-Gon..." he said through clenched teeth. "Something's wrong..."

Kyran's eyes narrowed. "Can you sense exactly what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "No...but he's hurt..."

Kyran winced and glared again at Mace Windu, though he didn't say anything.

Mace frowned. "I'll try to contact him and I'll let you know as soon as possible what I find out." He bowed and headed out of Obi-Wan's recovery room with a worried frown on his dark face.

* * *

Images swirled together of the crash. He had arrived in-system to find himself in the middle of an asteroid belt that had seemed somewhat familiar. He had let his Jedi reflexes take over to keep him out of harm's way, but even that could not completely keep him safe. His ship was pelted around by the asteroids and, losing control, he crashed toward a small planetoid in the middle of the belt that he had not realized was there. He had crashed with no power, using the Force to cushion-as much as he could-the ship. He had slammed into the metal of the cockpit and blacked out. Now, his head throbbing with every heart beat and his balance wavering so much that his stomach churned, he woke up.

His vision blurred as his eyes fluttered open and he rapidly closed them again. He felt pain as he tried to move. He put a hand to his head and it came away bloody. Big surprise there, he thought wryly remembering how hard his head had hit the metal. He tried again to open his eyes. His vision swam, but he knew he couldn't stay here on the floor of the ship forever. Groaning at the effort, he pushed himself up from the floor and tried to take stock of his injuries.

His right arm was cut from broken glass of the cockpit with one large piece still lodged in the skin of his arm, his sides were bruised from being battered around, and his head...oh, his head! First thing first--he had to get that glass out of his arm before it caused more problems later. Gritting his teeth, he got as good of a hold on the glass as he could and yank upward, tearing the sharp object out of his flesh, wincing at the coinciding deep pain and sudden gushing of blood.

Qui-Gon immediately felt lightheaded and clumsily fumbled with the clasp of a compartment next to the pilot's seat in which there was a medkit. He took the kit and surveyed the contents, noting with relief there were several rolls of bandages that he could use. He grabbed several and began the slow task of trying to bind up his arm one handed. It went slow and slick because of the blood, but finally he got his arm bandaged enough that he didn't have to worry about hemorrhaging. Next, he grabbed his lightsaber and wedged the smashed cockpit open, trying to ignore how his vision dotted and grayed as his blood flow increased.

He got out of the cockpit trying hard to stand on his feet as his balance wavered when he tried walking. He put a hand to his dizzy head. Force, he was going to give an earful to the Council about sending him to an asteroid belt without warning when he got home. Now he couldn't even contact the Council and he had no idea where in the galaxy he was.

After walking what seemed like miles, he spotted something glittering through the trees that surrounded him and his downed craft. There was a large, gleaming building just a few meters off. Perhaps in there he could find help to get off of this planet and get back to the Temple. Very unsteadily, he walked up to the building, wondering how he was to convince whomever was inside to just let him waltz right in. He didn't even know if the beings on this planet were friendly toward the Republic or the Jedi. As he contemplated what to say through the ache in his head, the door opened. He blinked in surprise. He had never seen that happen before. Most buildings had some security of one type or another, some kind of hoop that you had to jump through to gain entrance, but he wouldn't look a gift mynock in its ugly mouth. Quickly, before the door changed its mind, he strode in.

He found himself in a very long, wide corridor that was dimly lit. Limping slightly on an ankle that he must have twisted on his inglorious landing, he frowned as he continued his way through the corridor. He took in conveyor belts. There were miles upon miles of them in every room stretching back into the gloom of the room. He stared, watching the assembly lines. After a moment his vision blurred. He blinked, trying to clear it. He decided he must have a concussion from the way he couldn't seem to walk straight and see clearly which made it all the more important that he find a control center for this factory in order to call for help.

But...his curiosity was aroused. He had to see exactly what it was that was on those conveyor belts on a planet tucked away in the middle of an asteroid belt. He walked closer to them, trying to figure out what they were assembling.

Droids. Lots and lots of droids. Different models too, it looked like. As he investigated each individual room, he discovered that each room had a different style of droid that it was manufacturing. He must be in some kind of secret droid construction building. If that were so, where was the security?

He frowned, trying to take it all in, make sense of it all. He walked a little further and saw not a human or security droid in sight. He paused three-fourths of the way down the corridor, a bad feeling beginning to form in the pit of his gut.

Suddenly, a loud kind of rumbling began behind him. It clattered and crashed, vibrating the corridor he stood in. His feeling got worse as he turned around. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he stared at the three droids in front of him. They appeared to be golden bronze cylinders on three legs that, when unfolded, were taller than himself. They waited, not doing anything, seeming to be gauging his actions. He found himself facing six blasters that they carried at the end of their two arms. He made no move for his lightsaber, knowing instinctively that any sudden move might get him incinerated.

He shouldn't have bothered about being careful. It didn't matter. The droid nearest him walked up to him on its legs, then slapped some kind of shield around it to protect it. Qui-Gon, unfortunately, was too close when it did this. The clothing and topmost layers of his skin on his legs, chest and arms suddenly burned away, leaving a throbbing aching in its place from the shield's activation. The other two droids snapped shields up as well and the ends of the blasters began to glow.

Qui-Gon knew he had to get away from the three droids or he'd never be able to survive long enough to find help. He winced at the throbbing pain from the burns, then tried to push it to the back of his mind as he prepared to do what he needed to to survive. He reached out to the Force and knocked several things off the conveyor belts, hoping that the three droids would go investigate the noise and leave him time to find a place to hide.

One of the droids swiveled to look, but the other two simply opened fire. At close range.

Qui-Gon swore and in an instant had his lightsaber up, deflecting blaster bolts. He had to get out of range, somehow or he'd never get out of this place alive. His aching mind raced, trying to come up with a solution and he gasped in sudden pain as a bolt got through on his right shin. He staggered, already slightly off-balance from his twisted ankle, and nearly lost his balance completely. As he tried to catch himself on the wall of the corridor, another bolt sneaked in under his defenses, this time hitting him high on the right shoulder. The more hits he received, the more that came through his defenses. The dizziness of his concussion and the pain of his other injuries was distracting him...and in this case it would be fatal if he didn't do something about this closed-in situation. As he thought frantically, his blade a blur of light deflecting too many blaster bolts to count yet another bolt slammed into him, this time on his side, and he fell over onto the hard metal floor.

Qui-Gon lay quietly on the cool metal floor. Maybe if he didn't move or twitch the droids would think he was dead and ignore him. His side, shoulder and shin throbbed with pain from the injuries he had just received and he knew that another shot within the next few minutes might kill him.

The droids, to his credit, did seem to be confused. They stopped shooting and, after a moment, they lowered their shields and rolled away.

Qui-Gon waited several more minutes to make sure they were well away from him before he carefully sat up, trying hard not to make any noise. His body was aching all over from the burns, blaster wounds and the crash. He had to find a place to hide or he'd never survive. He used a crate that was nearby to help support him enough to where he could stand up and only after he was standing again did his eyes sweep down the corridor. He found a storage closet not too far away that would be perfect. He headed towards it, limping, aching, bleeding, and soon fell to his knees. His legs did not want to support his body for very long. Gritting his teeth, he reached out with his hands and slowly began pulling himself toward the closet at a crawl. Every moment that passed, he felt as if more of his life bled away, as if in the oppressive silence he could hear it slipping away from him. It took him centuries to reach the closet, and he feared the return of the droids before he could reach safety. Finally, he slipped inside the closet. It had no door, unfortunately, though it did have several large pieces of equipment that could protect him for the moment while he tried to bandage his injuries.

A beeping sounded on his belt, loud in the small space and startling him. He nearly leaped out of his skin. He'd forgotten about reporting in to the Council: his only thoughts lately had been about survival and help.

"Master Jinn, you have not reported in. Are you well?" came a voice that he recognized as a female Council member's.

His stomach tightened as he heard the clattering of the droids returning. Sith, they must have heard the noise as well. "I'm sorry, I've been a little busy here. No, I'm not well," he said in a hushed voice, trying to be as quiet as possible while still allowing them to hear him.

"Do you request a team to extract you? Are you still in the asteroid belt?" the voice asked. In the background he could hear Mace saying, "Ask if he needs me to come out..."

Qui-Gon knew the droids were coming closer. The unmistakable sound of their legs were headed straight for him, though he could not see them at the moment over the equipment he had placed in front of him. If he didn't get out of here now he'd never be able to make it out. They'd kill him. He stood with some effort and limped heavily on his good leg as he headed out of his hiding place as fast as he could go, hunting for another. For the moment he ignored the Council on the end of the comm.

"Master Jinn..."

Suddenly Obi-Wan's voice could be heard. "Masters, please, not now. I sense....please not now!" The comm went suddenly dead.

The droids were right behind him, approaching fast.

Qui-Gon mentally thanked his apprentice and he tried to put on a burst of speed to find a hiding space, for once grateful for his apprentice's timing and mini-rebellion. He turned a corner and located another closet...but it was at the end of a very long corridor. He tried to pick up his pace with legs that did not want to bend and an aching body that longed for only rest. His vision tunneled and he hurried as much as he dared push himself toward his destination. He was within just a few feet of the closet when a sudden pain in his back flared, shooting straight into his brain. He found himself face first on the corridor floor. He hadn't even heard the blaster go off.

Laying still, he moaned softly at the sharp pain in his back, wondering how he had missed the sound of the blaster going off. He tried to push himself back to his feet, but his overtaxed and wounded body refused to cooperate. He sighed, knowing now that, in the middle of a corridor with no cover he was as good as dead. Silently he waited, prepared to accept death as it came to him on nine legs...

Obi-Wan ignored the angry roar of the Council, dropping to the floor as he felt his master's pain. He was in so much pain...What in the galaxy was the Council thinking? He felt Qui-Gon slipping into the Force, to become one with the Force... No! He wouldn't let it happen! Qui-Gon had kept him here when all he wanted was to give up and die. He would not let his master leave him.

_Master! Stay with me_!He called desperately into the Force. Fight this!

_I can't...I'm done...I can't fight anymore..._Qui-Gon was trying hard to hang onto consciousness, but he was rapidly failing. His vision darkened and he felt peace from the Force, whispering to him enticingly, beckoning him home...

_You kept me here!_Obi-Wan tried a different track. _How dare you leave me now! All I wanted was peace, but you dragged me back! I never thought of you as a quitter..._He put all the coldness into his mental voice as he could, blocking his feelings of concern for his master. If this gamble didn't work....

Qui-Gon let out a weak moan at the anger and coldness coming from Obi-Wan's mental voice. He knew the boy was right. He couldn't quit, not now, but...how was he to continue fighting? If Obi-Wan could forgive him maybe he would be allowed to finally find his peace in the Force. _I know...You have been a good apprentice, my padawan. I'm sorry I had to leave you without saying goodbye._

"NO!" Obi-Wan shouted mentally and out loud, startling the Council as they heard the anguish in his cry. _You are not giving up on me! I'll never forgive you! Ever! I'll go find Xanatos...I'm sure he's alive somewhere. I'll become a dark lord of the Sith. You watch me. Don't you give up on me!_

Qui-Gon shuddered at the idea. He knew Obi-Wan was capable of what he threatened. And wouldn't Xanatos just love to be the one to turn Obi-Wan to the dark side? _Alright, alright, no need to shout. My head is throbbing._

Obi-Wan felt his master re-gather his strength and separate from the Force slightly. He let out a shuddering breath. He hadn't regained too much of his own strength, but his master needed it more than he... Determined, he shunted all of his recently healed strength to his master. There. That should help him heal a blaster bolt or two. Happy now, he sank onto the Council floor, barely noticing Mace Windu as the Jedi rushed from the room.

* * *

He stirred on the cold floor of the corridor, knowing that he had to get up. His eyes fluttered open and he found the droids were not far from him but, surprisingly, their attention wasn't focused on him at the moment. He forced himself to stand up, nearly gasping out loud at the pain that shot through every fiber of his being. He clenched his teeth and began trying to tiptoe silently away from the three droids, hoping to the Force that they wouldn't notice him.

It was quickly apparent that creeping away would not solve his problem of reaching the storage closet before the droids noticed him. Taking a chance, Qui-Gon sprinted as fast as he could on his wounded leg in the opposite direction of the droids. Sharp, white hot pain burned through him with every step and it took every ounce of his concentration not to fall to the floor every time he moved aching, burning muscles. He had to make it to a new hiding place before he was noticed. Dimly, through the hot pain in his leg, he wondered if he'd passed the Council's test.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Mace jumped into a two man ship with a good med bunk and quickly had it up and into space. He keyed in the asteroid's location and let the ship jump to hyperspace. It would take him eight hours to arrive, let alone the time he would need in order to find Qui-Gon. When Obi-Wan had come running into the Council chambers, interrupting yet another heated discussion over Qui-Gon, he had thought some of the Jedi were going to have strokes from shock. Mace couldn't help but chuckle a little at the memory of their faces when Obi-Wan had then, babbling, snatched the comlink from Ki-Adi Mundi and turned it off. The boy had then sat on it and refused to get off of it. Before anyone could grab him or the comlink, he had doubled over, shouting things about Qui-Gon. Mace had wanted to go after Qui-Gon before now, but that had decided him. He didn't have the full Council's backing on this, but he could not leave his childhood friend alone to face whatever it was that he was facing. His friend had taught him that sometimes you had to bend the rules in order to do that which was right. The infallible Council had messed up, plain and simple. He only hoped his friend didn't die for their mistake. Silently, he urged the ship to go faster as he sank into a deep hibernation trance and tried to find Qui-Gon to shunt him more strength, to make him hold on...

Qui-Gon panted as he ran, dizzy from blood loss. He was still bleeding profusely from his wounds and controlling the sharp pain so that it did not interfere in his attempt at escape from the droids was taking an enormous amount of effort. The pain of the blaster wounds on his side and back felt like a dagger stabbing him with every move that he made. He let out a sharp cry of pain as he suddenly slipped and fell hard to the ground. Dimly, he wondered what he had tripped over. Looking down he could see nothing but his own blood leaving a pattern behind him, a marked trail for the droids to follow. He must have slipped in the pool of his own blood. He nearly retched at the thought and put a hand to his dizzy head, seeking an end to this nightmare.

The droids turned to follow the bright red path that clearly marked where the injured intruder was but a new order came to them as they were reorienting. They were to corner, not kill, the intruder. The Overseer knew that with those wounds the intruder would die. The droids did not care about the loss of life, they simply followed orders, rolling along the trail that the man left behind, their guns slack in mechanical hands, no longer prepared to shoot.

Qui-Gon winced as he tried to stand, but a sharp stab of pain in his left knee let him know that he must have pulled a muscle in his fall. He sighed. He knew at this rate he would never make it back to the Temple. The droids rolled around the corner heading for him and he froze, his blood running cold as they surrounded him, blasters raised, yet not firing at him. With a sinking heart he knew that he had nowhere else to go. He was trapped.

The Overseer again stressed to the droidekas to corner and surround the intruder but not fire: the Overseer wanted to know where the body was for quick disposal of later.

Qui-Gon coughed and slightly winced at the pain in his throat as he lay on the cool floor, the droids hovering around him. His whole body screamed at him for rest. With a sigh, he let himself slip into the bliss of unfeeling unconsciousness, preparing himself for the second time in less than a day to die.

* * *

Eight hours had passed and gone. Mace was flying around the asteroid belt, banging his fist on the ship's comm unit in frustration. He had seen no sign whatsoever of his friend's ship. He swerved around a particularly large asteroid...and then he saw the planetoid tucked neatly in the center of the maelstrom. He blinked. That hadn't been here a few years ago-where had it come from?

He shook his head to clear it. For now, he wouldn't waste time worrying about the particulars of how a strange planetoid had landed in the middle of an asteroid belt...Qui-Gon was down there and he was dying.

Mace landed quickly near where his sensors showed the remains of a ship. He didn't even bother to look at it, sensing his friend inside the large building nearby. The door opened at his approach, but he spared no thought for that as well. He swung his lightsaber into his hand for possible protection, not knowing what he would find. Quickly, silently, he walked down one corridor, then heard the clattering of something mechanical moving to his right. He walked quickly past a storage closet and then into another corridor. He skidded to a halt halfway down it. Blood was on the floor. Lots of it. His stomach churned. He knew whose it was. Carefully, he followed the trail around a corner and peeked around it, not knowing what exactly to expect.

Qui-Gon, badly wounded and bleeding, was crawling determinedly toward a storage closet, three droidekas covering his movements.

"Qui-Gon!" he yelled, hopingâ€"and succeedingâ€"on drawing the droidekas from his friend. Gleefully he noted that they did not have their shields up as they started to fire at him. Swiftly, knowing that the droidekas would soon snap on their shields, he reflected each bolt back toward its firer and soon each droid was a smoking heap of metal. Mace powered down his saber and rushed to his gravelly injured friend. "Oh, Qui-Gon..."

Qui-Gon stared at his friend, almost certain he was a hallucination from his blood loss and concussion. "Took you long enough," he managed to choke out, just in case he wasn't imagining things.

Mace glanced up and down the corridor, but did not hear any other droidekas coming. "Sorry, I was entangled with the Council," the dark-skinned man said with a grimace. "C'mon, I need to get you out of here. Can you stand?"

Qui-Gon grabbed tightly onto his friend's arm in an attempt to stand, and tried his hardest not to show the pain that was stabbing through his left knee, right shoulder, head, and chest. Though, oddly, his right shin and his back did not hurt as much as they ought to. Whenever he concentrated on those blaster bolts, they seemed to be somehow partly healed. He couldn't explain it in his befuddled mindâ€"the only thing he could think of was the Council that his friend was a part of.

"The Council," he murmured. "You should leave me, this is my test. I failed."

Mace shook his head as he helped to lift his friend to a standing position. "Oh no, my friend. If anything, you have surpassed it. Don't worry about their test anymore. Let's get you back to the Temple."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, his expression tight with trying to control the pain of standing. The pain throbbed through him in perfect timing with his heartbeat. "I'm coming...how's Obi-Wan?"

Mace chuckled, though he really didn't feel like laughing. "In more trouble with the Council then you could ever get into." He slowly assisted Qui-Gon as they walked out of the building and into his ship. Mace was on the alert for more droidekas, but none showed. Neither did any human overseers. It was another strange thing to add to this very odd planetoid that he would put in his report later. For the moment, he directed Qui-Gon to the medical bunk. "Lay down here."

Qui-Gon didn't protest as he lay down. He was grateful to finally be able to rest. He was aching all over and the distance to the ship, though not great, had been difficult. He'd had to lean heavily on Mace for support and even then he nearly slipped and fell twice, dizzy from blood loss and his concussion. "I feel so dizzy."

"I know, here, put this over your face. It'll give you extra oxygen. Try not to sleep," Mace urged his friend. "You have a concussion and I'm not sure how bad it is. Once we're in hyperspace I can do a little healing. Hang on, my friend." Then he was gone to the cockpit.

Qui-Gon took the oxygen mask and with difficulty put it on, wincing as pain throbbed with his every movement. His eyes drifted shut and he wanted very much to sleep now that he was safe and not running for his life.

Mace kicked the ship into hyperspace as fast as its engines would go. He sent off a brief note to the Council explaining that he had found Qui-Gon, seriously injured, and they were on their way back. Then he walked to the med bunk. "Qui-Gon!" he barked. "Open your eyes right now!"

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open obediently, afraid that he had done something wrong that would warrant more censure. "I'm sorry, Mace," he said, sounding truly apologetic.

Mace sighed and settled onto the floor of the ship. "Concentrate in the Force with me. Let's see what we can do to reduce some of these injuries."

Qui-Gon tried to ignore the stabbing pains of his wounds as he attempted to reach out to the Force, wincing as he shifted position. "I'm sorry I was late with reporting to the Council," he murmured, hoping his friend would recognize his apology also for not calling on time with his last mission. He would try very hard never to be late again.

Mace boiled inside but kept his countenance calm. "It'll be okay, Qui," he murmured. He used Qui-Gon's nickname that he himself hadn't used in years, not since he had been appointed to the Jedi Council. "Focus...focus..."

Qui-Gon tried to focus, but it kept slipping. The trouble was due mainly to his concussion. Eventually, however, exercising patience he did not particularly feel, he did manage to reach the Force and draw it weakly around him.

Mace reinforced his friend's efforts and searched for Qui-Gon's wounds in the Force. He tried not to notice how weak his friend's Force signature was, or to sense the echoes of the pain leaking from him as he worked tirelessly at having Qui-Gon's body produce double the white blood cells so that platelets could be formed to seal up the blaster holes to stop the bleeding. That was the main problemâ€"the bleeding.

Qui-Gon sighed a little, feeling some of the pain of his wounds eased as Mace reinforced his weak efforts at healing. He just wanted to sleep...

After Mace was sure that his friend would not immediately die on him did he slowly ease his friend into the sleep he so desired. _Rest well, Qui-Gon,_ he thought at him as he stood. He had to prepare a more detailed report to the Council-and they would not like some of the comments he would say.

* * *

Qui-Gon slept deeply, grateful to no longer be swimming in a sea of pain and blood. In his sleep his dreams were untroubled and the pain of his injuries were unnoticed. Some part of him vaguely wished Mace would let him sleep forever, but he knew that he'd eventually get woken up. For now, though, he settled in slumber, completely unaware of the outside world and the starlines flashing past in the soothing travel of hyperspace.

Mace paced. It had been two hours. He dared not let his friend sleep any longer with his concussion. Sighing, he leaned over Qui-Gon and shook him gently. "Wake, my friend," he urged.

"I'm still sleepy," Qui-Gon mumbled, trying to ignore Mace's prodding.

"Wake, Qui-Gon. That is an order from a Council member," Mace said sternly. If anything at this moment in time with the most recent circumstances, that ploy would do the trick better than any other.

Sure enough. Qui-Gon groaned and forced his eyes open. "Why did you have to do that? I'm so tired."

"I need to make sure that you are alright, Qui," Mace explained. He helped him sit up and then handed him a plate of ship's rations. "Plus, I thought that you might be hungry."

Qui-Gon winced at the pain as he sat up; promptly, his vision swam. He looked eagerly at the plate of food Mace had brought and his mouth watered. It had been some time since he had last eaten. He swallowed the dry food eagerly, the pain in his throat fading to the back of his mind when compared with all the other injuries he had acquired recently. "Starving," he replied.

Mace watched him, then broke out into a mischievous grin. 

"What's that look for?" Qui-Gon asked, noticing the grin.

"I was just remembering what happened when you had just been made a padawan. Remember? It involved a lot of dewback ribs..."

* * *

_Ten-year-old Qui-Gon sat down next to his friend Mace Windu in the dining hall, an enormous tray of dewback ribs with extra sauce steaming on his plate. "Hi," he grinned to his friend, who had also recently been made a padawan._

_Mace scowled over at him. "I don't know why you're smiling, Jinn. And stand up. You know we can't eat yet. We have to deliver this plate to the Jedi Masters sitting in the corner and it's all your fault," Mace huffed as he hauled Qui-Gon to his feet._

_"Now, now, Mace, don't get so upset." Qui-Gon tried to soothe his friend. "We could just use the Force to levitate it to them instead. They'll be pleased that we're at least attempting some Force control exercises in our spare time," Qui-Gon said through a charming grin. "We won't have to leave our seats and they'll still get their food. Everybody's happy. Would you please stop glowering at me like that?"_

_Mace mumbled something like "nothing ever works the way you want it to" but finally stopped glowering. "Fine. Let's do it quickly. I'm hungry and because of your idea to race down the halls we have to wait to eat until this is done. Ready?"_

_Qui-Gon nodded and reached out to the Force, levitating the plate of ribs over to where Master W'go on the Jedi Council was sitting. Qui-Gon tried not to laugh at the sight of a plate of food floating through the air, but he couldn't help himself. He snickered._

_That laugh distracted Mace. The plate he was levitating near Master Yoda dipped alarmingly, furthering his loss of concentration. With a loud crash, the ribs pelted Master Yoda and several other masters sitting near him. Mace quickly ducked underneath the table, out of sight._

_Qui-Gon let out a gasp of surprise as he saw Mace's food plate drop. He lost his concentration as well and ended up dropping his, splattering the Twi'lek Jedi Master and Master Yaddle. His face turned beet red and he glared at Mace under the table, standing to take the blame alone._

_All twelve of the Jedi Masters turned as one to stare at Qui-Gon. Silence reigned in the cafeteria as the initiates and other padawans paused in their eating to watch what would happen._

_Qui-Gon was rooted to the spot, unable to do more than stare back as the members of the Council turned their eyes on him. He let out a small whimper, wondering how large his punishment would be. He felt his own Master's eyes on him right before a heavy hand fell hard on his shoulder, gripping him firmly. In a terrified voice he stammered out, "M...my apologies, Masters."_

_To his surprise, not all of the masters looked angry or upset. Masters Yoda, W'go and Yaddle seemed more amused than anything else._

_"And what," said Master W'Go in a controlled, smooth voice, "were you attempting to do, since I am positive it was not to bathe us in dewback ribs?"_

_Qui-Gon blushed furiously and stammered, "J...just what we had been told: deliver the food to you. Perhaps not done in the um...usual manner, but I lost my concentration..."_

_"'We'?" Master Yoda picked up on the boy's verb usage._

_Qui-Gon frowned a little, not wanting to get the cowering Mace into trouble. "Me. I did it." He glanced at the floor._

_Yoda's eyes twinkled but before he could say anything, an elder master stood. "Young man, I do hope you realize that this sauce is nearly impossible to get its stains out," she said in a reproaching tone. Her robes were smeared with the sauce from the ribsâ€"as were the rest of the Masters' robes._

_Qui-Gon winced at that. "My apologies. I accept responsibility for the clothes and will take any punishment you give me," he said in a small voice._

_"Punishment with your master it lies," Yoda said, the twinkle still lingering in his eyes. "Clothes a Jedi does not concern themselves with." The small master glanced at the glowering female who was still standing. "Entertaining this was. Ready ourselves for a meeting we should." He stood and slowly walked out of the cafeteria, the other masters slowly following, though Master W'Go lingered._

_"Don't make it too harsh, Dooku," he said, showing his pointed teeth as he looked down at Qui-Gon. "After all, he's only a boy."_

* * *

"Thanks to you, I had to work in the evenings with laundry, and in the morning I had to wash dishes in the cafeteria." Qui-Gon arched a brow at Mace in the small ship. "Some friend," he added, though not with malice. "I got punished, but you ducked out."

Mace chuckled, his bald head shining in the light. "Yes, but you and Kyran got even with me..."

* * *

_Eleven year old Mace Windu whistled as he sauntered down the Jedi Temple's corridors, his lengthening padawan braid and full head of hair neatly combed and on display. He was proud of being a padawan, but was proud of his friends as well for also becoming padawans, though Kyran Josel had been one for a while now. They would all grow to be great Jedi Knights for the Order one day and would sit beside each other on the Jedi Council. He could just see it in his mind._

_Qui-Gon glowered as he watched Mace Windu walking up the corridors. He was still upset that he'd been punished for spilling food on the members of the Council two months ago and his friend had wormed his way out of punishment. Jedi were not supposed to seek revenge, Qui-Gon knew, but he also knew that Jedi didn't leave their friends to face punishment alone either._

_Mace, oblivious to emotions as usual, waved a greeting to his friend. "Hey, Qui! Are we still planning on going to the Room of a Thousand Fountains for some swimming today?" He glanced around. "Is Kyran coming?"_

_Qui-Gon shrugged. "I guess so. I still have homework to do so I can't go swimming all day."_

_Mace laughed. "Yes, well, neither can I. My master wants me to practice some difficult katas later. I guess we'll go ahead and go. Kyran knows where to find us, correct?"_

_Qui-Gon nodded. "I think so, besides he could use our link to find me in case he didn't know." Of course Kyran knew exactly where they would be. Qui-Gon allowed himself a grin. They had been planning on how to get Mace back ever since Qui-Gon's punishment began two months ago. Kyran had borrowed a pair of scissors from his Master for the purpose._

_Mace and Qui-Gon quickly made their way to the nicest room in the Temple. At this hour, not many, if any, initiates or other padawans would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains since most of them had to spar with their masters or do their meditations. Once they had arrived, Mace caught sight of a blonde-headed boy disappearing around the next bend. "Looks like Kyran got here ahead of us," he said, elbowing Qui-Gon to look as they hurried to catch up to the older boy._

_"Guess so. Let's go say hello," Qui-Gon said, trying hard to keep his face straight. If all went well within a few minutes time, Mace would soon have no hair left other than his padawan braid._

_Mace, not knowing Qui-Gon's thoughts, nodded and smiled. It was pleasantly warm in the Room of a Thousand Fountains...perfect swimming conditions. Kyran must be trying to make sure their prime swimming hole was available because though Mace and Qui-Gon began to run, they didn't catch up to the older padawan until they had arrived at their swimming hole._

_"There you are..." Mace started to say, then stopped as he spotted a pair of scissors in Kyran's hand and a grin on his face. "What are you doing with those?"_

_"Oh, nothing much, just straightening things out," Qui-Gon replied as he grabbed Mace to make sure he couldn't escape._

_Mace squirmed against Qui-Gon's hold as Kyran slowly advanced on him. "What do you mean...What are you talking about?"_

_"It's generally considered rude to worm your way out of punishment, Mace, so consider yourself lucky that this is all we're doing," Kyran responded as Qui-Gon held onto his friend, refusing to let him get away._

_Mace felt fear forcing its way into his heart as Kyran leaned over him and he heard the snip-snipping of the scissors. "You two are going to be in such big trouble..." he whimpered as locks of his black hair began to fall around his face._

_"Sorry, Mace, if you tell on us, then I can let them know just who levitated the first plate of food that dropped," Qui-Gon remarked._

_Mace immediately shut up and stilled, though he closed his eyes. After a long silence filled only with the continuous snipping of the scissors, he felt Qui-Gon release him. Fearfully, he opened his eyes to see the mirth on Kyran and Qui-Gon's faces. "Oh, no..."_

_Qui-Gon covered a laugh as he released his friend's arms when Kyran had finished. He held up a small mirror. "Here's the new you, Windu."_

_Mace stared in horror at his bald, shiny head. Almost disbelievingly, he put a hand to his head, expecting it to come into contact with his hair...but there was nothing but black, shiny skin. The only hair left was his padawan braid hanging in front of his right ear. "You little Siths..." he breathed. What was he going to tell his master?_

_Qui-Gon grinned, pleased with himself. "Perhaps next time you'll be a bit more willing to stick up for your friends, instead of letting them take the fall, eh?"_

_Tears in his eyes, Mace ran from his friends. He shot back to his quarters, frantically trying to think of a way to reverse what they had just done to him. Unfortunately, he met his master lounging on their repulsor couch._

_"Padawan?" Master Rhy'ul frowned, staring at his padawan. "I love your new hairstyle. What gave you the idea to cut it?"_

_Mace's mind raced. "Um, well, Qui-Gon, Kyran and I...er...decided that a new...look...was best. Do you...um...like it?"_

_His Master arched a brow, sensing that there was more to his padawan's statement but decided not to press the issue. "It does look nice and it will be much easier to maintain."_

_Mace went to the refresher and took another look at his bald head. It was different, that much was sure. And...the more he looked at it, the more he was growing fond of it. His hair had been so thick that it was hard for him to spar without feeling as if his scalp were sweating to death. Perhaps he'd grow to like this after all._

* * *

"So we really did you a favor, which kind of messed up the whole revenge motive," Qui-Gon said, scowling a little. He shifted position and winced at the sharp pain.

Mace chuckled. "Yes, but it really helps to keep the initiates in line. One look at my bald head and they go running. It's rather amusing."

Qui-Gon snorted with laughter, then gasped at the sharp pain in his side as he did so. "How far are we from the Temple?" he gasped out.

Mace gave him a comforting look. "Another five hours, if these engines don't give out. With your luck they would, though with my good luck to balance it we may be okay." He smiled.

Qui-Gon winced at the idea of the engines going out. "Five hours?" He sighed a little. "And I'm supposed to stay awake that entire time right?" He shook his head, then immediately wished he hadn't as his vision swam and the room spun.

"No," Mace said easily. "But I do have to keep coming in here and waking you up. We can call it the ultimate payback."

Qui-Gon grimaced and tried to shift position to lay back down, but found he couldn't do it without help. "Mace," he managed to get out. "I can at least lay down, can't I?'

Mace chuckled and helped him settle into a more comfortable position. "That better?"

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "Thanks." He sighed a little. "This is going to set me back some. I'm afraid I won't be able to go on any missions for awhile. Han'yaie will drug me and tie me down to make sure the Council can't send me anywhere."

Mace hid his pained expression at his friend's words. He was part of the Council and therefore part of the reason Qui-Gon had gotten so badly hurt. "Well," he said, keeping his tone neutral, "I'm sure the Council won't be making demands on you anytime soon."

Qui-Gon frowned a little and his voice took on a hard edge, "Let me deal with Obi-Wan and his behavior to the Council. I don't want to see him censured in the same way."

Mace frowned at his friend. He didn't see what possible connection Qui-Gon could have logically made with that topic shift, but he placed it on his concussion. "I'm sure nothing has been done to the boy...young man," he corrected himself. Obi-Wan was growing up and starting to show his own individuality. "When I left, the Council seemed more concerned over him than reproachful." I hope, he added.

Qui-Gon frowned a little. "From the way the comm sounded before Obi-Wan cut off it sounded like they would be quite unhappy. As his Master, it is my responsibility to deal with him, not the Council's."

"I'll let them know," Mace soothed. "Now, get some rest. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

Qui-Gon nodded and his eyes drifted shut, slipping easily into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Obi-Wan strode determinedly toward the Temple's hanger bay, ignoring the protests of five healers and two apprentices. He had to see his masterâ€"he didn't care that the healers thought he should take a hoverchair. He would meet his master on his feet, like a man.

Qui-Gon groaned as he was lifted onto a hovergurney. Every move he made ached like fire pulsing through him. He felt a familiar presence nearby-Obi-Wan. He tried to stand and push the healers away so he could go to the boy that he sensed standing outside the ship, but they quickly pushed him back down, overriding his protests.

Obi-Wan's heart nearly broke in two when he saw his strong, dependable master laying on a gurney, his face chalk white, blood covering his tunic...or what was left of it. Qui-Gon looked as bad as Obi-Wan sensed him to be. "Master..." he breathed as Qui-Gon was steered toward him.

Qui-Gon reached out for his padawan's hand. "Obi-Wan. How are you feeling, young one?"

Obi-Wan hid his fear for his master. "Better than you, I should think," he answered lightly, gripping his master's hand tightly and walking beside him back to the Healer's wing. "What happened?"

"What didn't happen is perhaps the better question, but I'll tell you about it later, padawan." Qui-Gon heard the scratchiness in his still not quite recovered throat as he talked.

Obi-Wan ignored Healer Apprentice Anya as she continuously berated him for being on his feet. "Will you be alright?" he asked quietly. His tone conveyed that he meant more than what was said on the surface.

"In time," Qui-Gon said, wincing a little. He gazed meaningfully at the padawan. "You should sit down, like Anya said."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm fine. She's just...a trifle more concerned than she should be. It's you they should be worrying over," he commented as they entered the large area that housed the bacta tanks.

Qui-Gon eyed the bacta tanks and grimaced. He hated bacta tanks and he wondered just how long he would have to be in one this time. He squeezed Obi-Wan's hand. "They worry about all their patients, Obi-Wan. It's her job."

Obi-Wan made a face, then protested as Anya forcibly dragged him away from Qui-Gon.

"He needs to be soaked in bacta immediately. Death is too close to him still," the young healer explained quickly. "Come over here and you can stay, as long as you let him rest and as long as you sit down."

Qui-Gon glanced anxiously at his padawan, urging him to comply with the healer padawan.

Obi-Wan sank onto a repulsor chair. He was more tired than he wanted to admit. He hadn't walked that much in almost a week. He watched as the teams of healers helped Qui-Gon into a light clothe that would protect his modesty, but at the same time revealed the blaster bolts and burns in better detail.

Qui-Gon tried not to cry out in pain as he was dressed but he couldn't help himself. He could barely stand, the blaster wound in his back had left him to where he could only stand half-way up. His left knee was throbbing fiercely and his vision swam from his concussion. His right shin, side and back all showed blackened skin and he still had a light scent of the ozone around him. The skin around the edges of the wounds was melted and blood trailed down his wounds. He wasn't bleeding as profusely as before, lying down on the ship had helped some, but blood flow increased when he stood up.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took some of his master's pain into himself. He nearly cried out with the pain that slammed into him, but he reminded himself that Qui-Gon needed all the help that he could get to help him feel better.

Qui-Gon felt what Obi-Wan was doing for him and stared reproachfully at him. "You need all your strength to heal, Padawan. I'll be alright. You're still not well yet yourself."

Obi-Wan said nothing, but met his master's gaze with his own steady one. It was a wordless declaration of love, and of unbinding will.

Qui-Gon smiled a little. His balance was wavering as he continued to stand and he looked like he was on the verge of falling over.

"Now, Master Jinn," Han'yaie was saying. "We'll bring you out in about twelve hours. We suggest you meditate to pass the time. Do you need anything?"

Qui-Gon couldn't think of anything really, or at least nothing they would give him. "Not that I can think of at the moment."

Han'yaie slowly led him up the stairs to the top of the bacta tank. Four healers gently lowered him into the room temperature bacta.

"Call out to me or Obi-Wan in the Force should you need one of us," Han'yaie instructed as he handed over the breath mask.

Qui-Gon sighed before he placed the breath mask over his mouth, then waited for them to lower him the rest of the way into the tank.

_Rest well, Master..._

Obi-Wan watched his master slip into a healing trance and found himself smiling. He was surprised at first-all the healers were worried about his master surviving and here he was, smiling? But then he felt it...the Force. Where once his master's presence had been dim and weak, it was now back to its regular strength and pulsing brightly. He might have to be a while in the bacta, but Obi-Wan was sure now that his master would be okay. Still smiling, he allowed himself to be taken back into his recovery room.

* * *

"Secret factory you say?" Master Yoda inquired, one green ear tilting in surprise.

Mace nodded from his position in the middle of the Council room. He had just finished giving his personal report of what he had seen when he rescued Qui-Gon. "Someone wanted it to remain hidden, though they did not put up a fight when I came to take Qui-Gon from there. It's a new planetoid, can't be more than a year or two old."

Ki-Adi Mundi frowned, his high brow wrinkling like a disturbed sea. "I do not like this, Mace. Someone placing a planetoid in the middle of an asteroid belt to keep it hidden? Trying to kill a lone Jedi to keep the place secret?"

"Find anything else did you?" Yoda asked, his eyes blinking slowly.

Mace nodded. "On the report I sent in, I included a picture of a logo that I found on the droids. I have had a little time on my journey to search through archives to discover what that logo belonged to." He paused to collect his thoughts.

After a moment, Master Yaddle wheezed out, "And to whom does it belong, Windu?"

Very quietly, Mace said, "The Trade Federation."

The Council members were silent. Then Master Fretora stood. "More investigation this needs. On it I will get. Blind the Jedi should not be. Much happening I sense."

Mace nodded at her. Other than Kyran Josel's wife, Lana, Master Fretora was the best researcher he had ever known. She was rich but influential. If anyone could find out what was going on with the Trade Federation, she could.

Yoda looked grave. "Keep alert we should. Dismissed we are."

THE END


End file.
